


The Great Glitter Heist of 221B

by Ewebie, jamlockk



Series: Tumblr Shorts [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: And red pants... there are red pants, It's not a heist, M/M, The great glitter heist of 221B, it's not case related, it's not even smut, the crackiest of crack, this is just pure tumblr crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 03:25:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4375361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ewebie/pseuds/Ewebie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamlockk/pseuds/jamlockk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Look... There is literally no excuse for this. It is just 100% ridiculousness. But like... There's glitter and B&E and alcohol and red pants. Why WOULDN'T you read this.</p><p>Jam and I trade off narration, should be easy enough to follow. And if you can't understand the Scottish... talk to Jam, she's the one with the drawl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Great Glitter Heist of 221B

We shuffled nervously, glancing down an empty Baker Street. It was quiet and still at such a late hour. And we were well-camouflaged in our black outfits. Our matching black outfits.  
  
“Shhh,” I hissed at the giggling coming from behind me, trying not to laugh myself. “You’ll give us away before we even get started!”  
  
I shifted the bag over my shoulder, listening to the supplies rattling softly inside. Pens, post-its, and packs of confetti - the others were also packing to the gay hilt.

~

I glanced down at my phone. It had been eerily silent for the past few hours. Not that I would have answered had it rung, but still, it had been nothing but noise from the planning for the past three weeks. Ugh, I should just have another coffee; we were going to be up late for sure.

_T-minus two hours? I’ve sorted the entry if you’ve obtained the supplies. – E_

I shot off the quick text and wandered to the small kitchenette to flick on the kettle. Instant coffee… Gross. I scratched at my forearm nervously as I waited for the water to boil.

“Alright there, E?”

I almost laughed. Almost. Perfect. “Me? Yeah. You?”

He bobbed his head toward my arm. “Eczema?”

“Shut it,” I gave him a playful shove. “Last kid had chickenpox. I am itching all over now.”

He pulled a face. “That time of year?”

“Better believe it. That’s five this week.” I liberated a mug as the kettle clicked off. “Coffee?”

“Ah… tea, maybe. Coffee at this hour?”

I shrugged. “I’ve a pile of work waiting at home too.”

“It’ll stunt your growth.”

I gave him a very deliberate once-over as I added a splash of milk to my coffee and his tea. “Tea for you then.”

His face twitched in amusement. “Ta.”

I raised my mug in mock salute. “Anytime.”

“How many you have left?”

“Three. Should get out by five. You?”

“Ah… two. But I’ve something on before home.”

I smiled. “Something in a dashing coat and scarf?”

“Oi.”

“Please.” I sipped my coffee. “I don’t want to know. Your stories make me fear for my safety.”

“John?” came a call from the reception desk. “I’m sending back your next patient!”

He shot me a wry smile. “Duty calls.”

“Off you go.” I gave a nod as he headed back to his room. “Catch you later.”

He made an affirmative noise as he took a rather large sip of tea and waved with his free hand, disappearing into the exam room.

I twirled the key-ring around my index finger and smiled. That was almost too easy.

“E! Your half-four is in!”

I pocketed the keys again as my phone chimed.

_WE HAVE SOOOO MUCH GLITTER!!!!! –Jam_

~

Ewebie was running late.

I was already a bit nervous thinking about what we were going to attempt. I could only hope that, should anything go wrong, flinging a large handful of the glorious glitter I had secreted in every pocket on my person and in my bag would distract enough that we could sneak away. 

I could hear the others whispering; they were really looking forward to this. Biting my lip to stifle the giggles at the absurdity of my life, I pulled out my phone to text Ewebs again. 

_Soooooo much glitter. On your way? - Jam_

The phone buzzed with Ewebie's reply:

_Almost there. Wait for the signal. - E_

"Ewebie's on her way, everyone clear on the plan?" I whispered to the group. There was furious nodding, then we were off. 

We tried to sneak across the street as quietly as possible, but the giggling soon started again. Just as well the landlady at 221b is a sound sleeper… And currently away visiting her sister. 

~

Oh God, it was nearly six when I finally left. John was already long gone, which was a good thing, given I had his keys and he’d clearly yet to notice they were missing. This was either going to be the most entertaining or most horrific evening I’d had in ages.

I caught the tube and after a rather short walk, I was standing outside of Baker Street. And… it was quiet. It was really, really quiet. It was too quiet.

Where was my crew?!

They should have been here by now. They should have been waiting just down the road. They… They should have been waiting. Why did I think they’d decided not to wait? God dammit! I tugged out my phone and punched in Jam’s number only to have it ring out. I sighed heavily and sent a text instead.

_Where ARE You? I’m outside! –E_

Then I distinctly heard the distant sound of giggles.

~

Flustered, giggling, and struggling with the lock picks I growled in frustration. The others were keeping an eye out for E, trying to look casual and utterly failing. 

The goddamn door just wouldn't budge. I yanked the lock picks out and took a deep breath. It would be worth it when we achieved our goal, but I was currently getting nowhere. I slipped the pin back in and tried again. 

The phone buzzing in my pocket startled me and I dropped the lock pick, fumbling to grab the phone and answer. I missed the call but the screen illuminated to tell me that E had been trying to reach me. Pausing to wonder if I should give up and get one of the others to try the lock, I frowned as a text came through. 

_Where ARE You? I’m outside! –E_

Confused I glanced around me. No sign of her. I texted back. 

_At the door! Where are you?! -Jam_

"You mean this door?" E hissed, chuckling under her breath. 

"Oh, there you are!" I whispered. "Thank god, someone else has to try this lock, I'm getting nowhere!"

Nicole reached for the picks to take over, but stopped when E snorted. 

"Or, we could just use these?" From her fingers dangled a set of keys. 

"E, you're a bloody genius," I whispered, grinning at my friends. E chuckled, and quietly unlocked the door. We were in. 

~

Stealthy, they were not. But god bless, they made up for it with their sheer excitement. The giggling, it turned out, had been coming from the door to 221, just not the front door. “Always check the back door,” I muttered to myself, rounding the bins. My phone buzzed, and I glanced at it.

_At the door! Where are you?! –Jam_

“You mean this door?” I huffed.

“Oh, there you are!” Jam hissed in a very loud stage whisper. “Thank god, someone else has to try this lock, I’m getting nowhere!”

I shot a quick look at the lock, then at the key in my hand: _Abloy_. It was a dimple lock, and they were struggling to open it like it was a six pin tumbler. Then Jam stood up to hand the picks off to Nicole and I realized it. They… They were all wearing black, skin-tight jumpsuits. Oh my God. I tried not to laugh. I tried so hard, but I couldn’t bury the snort. “Or, we could just use these?”

Jam smiled. She looked at each member of our group and grinned. “E, you’re a bloody genius.”

I was not a genius. Not at all. But I do think I was just in time, as the rain that had been threatening all day finally arrived. I unlocked the door and stepped to the side, waiving them in with a finger to my lips. “Shush! I don’t know if the landlady is out or not.”

Who grinned as she walked past. “Witness me,” she giggled, hiding what looked like silver painted lips behind her hand. Oh lord. Nicole had her hands on Who’s shoulders, and made an excessive, creeping, tip-toe motion as she entered the flat. I sighed and shook my head. Fleur actually had a flower crown of what looked like black, silk daisies resting on her head. And Ami… Where the hell did she find a black deer-stalker?

Jam’s hand dropped on my shoulder and she gave a wink. I couldn’t help but smile back, “I thought you were just messing about the cat-suits.”

She laughed. “Ah cannae hawd dafty burds fae geein it laldy, hen.”

“Jesus, Jam. In bloody English, please.”

She grinned. “Ye didn’t get the memo then?”

“I was at work,” I raised a brow and freed the keys from the door. “C’mon, let’s get up there before they accidently burn the place down.”

“At least we’re in disguise,” Jam offered.

I looked down at my clothes. Black jeans, brown riding boots, my bright blue sweater thankfully hidden under the brown wax. “Maybe you are.” The door clicked shut behind us and I locked it reflexively.

Halfway up the stairs, the wood gave a loud creak. “That’d be number four,” Jam said.

“And thirteen,” I muttered as another step sounded in danger of breaking.

And then we reached the sitting room. Everyone was in. Everyone was there. And everyone was dead silent. A sort of reverent awe settled in the room. We’d joked, kidded, threatened, but never really meant it. Well, maybe we had, but never thought it’d come to fruition. And now we were here. This was it. We were actually going to do this. And nobody moved. You could hear a pin drop.

Then a rather loud, brapping tthhppppptthththphp sound erupted from the quiet.

We all turned to stare at Nicole, who shrugged and gave a self-deprecating smile. Who, never missing an opportunity, laughed first. It started out as a chuckle, but devolved into full belly laughs that had her doubled over, clutching her stomach. We all joined in, giggling at the absurdity until Who actually tipped too far forward and fell onto Nicole, dragging her to the carpet with a shriek and a thud. Then we all laughed harder.

~

Ribs aching, trying to stifle my laughter by shoving a hand into my mouth, I was now really having fun on this, my first breaking and entering. We'd gotten lucky so far, E filching John's keys, Hudders being away for the weekend, even Nicole's musical butt hadn't given us away. 

Gathering my wits, I poked Fleur and Ami, passing out the supplies from my bag. Glitter, sequins, cake-flavoured lube and peppermint condoms (tingly both inside and out), and of course, my heart-shaped post-its. I fished about for my Sharpie as the others began spreading the gay love throughout the flat as the rain came down outside.

E peered over my shoulder and snorted laughter, muttering something about my "customary subtlety" before moving into the kitchen to decorate. I shrugged, concentrating on writing 'JUST FUCK ALREADY' in giant black letters on as many post-its as I could. I almost tripped over Fleur, arranging green carnations in tiny adorable vases on every available surface, as I stuck the notes everywhere I could reach. Fleur giggled and gave me a boost so I could stick a few at Sherlock's eye height as well as John's. 

It didn't take long to plaster the flat in notes and I stood back out of the way to watch the others, again struggling to stifle my giggles. Unfortunately, our luck was about to run out. 

We all stopped, frozen still, when we heard movement. Scrambling to finish and get the hell out before we were discovered, we were making for the door to sneak back down the stairs when the front door thudded open. 

~

At the sound of the door, everyone froze.

We were so busted.

So totally busted.

I was totally busted. John would murder me… Well, Sherlock would probably be the one to murder me; I certainly would be looking for a new job.

“Why are you blaming me?” John hollered. “It’s not like I can control the weather!”

I clamped both hands over my mouth to hold in the terrified giggle and shot a panicked glance at Jam. She gave a nervous ‘I don’t know!’ full body gesture. “Fire escape,” I hissed, pointed down the hall. “Go!” I counted as they went past, Nicole and Who, Fleur, Jam. Where was Ami? And… I choked back another giggle. Sherlock’s room was absolutely covered, coated with notes and flowers and balloons…. We had balloons? And confetti. Nicole was working on the window, undoing the latch as quietly as she could. “Jam, where’s Ami?”

“Certainly someone with even a fraction of standard functioning neurons could notice the likelihood of rain,” Sherlock grumbled loudly. The downstairs door slammed shut.

Jam darted back toward the sitting room in search of Ami and I just missed catching her arm as she zipped past. “Shit.”

“Likelihood?!” John’s voice rose an octave. “I bloody well _told_ you it was about to rain! I distinctly remember looking you in the face and saying, ‘Sherlock, it is going to rain.’ I said it slowly and clearly, using small words so you’d actually understand. And you said it was irrelevant!” There was a smacking sound that must have been John’s jacket being shed onto the table in the front hall.

“It was irrelevant!” Sherlock bellowed.

Nicole had the window open and I watched her ease her way out onto the metal platform. She grinned at me then held out a hand for Fleur. Fleur was quick and quiet and rather graceful at climbing in and out of windows at awkward angles. She looked like she’d had practice. Ninja, that one was. A flower-crown ninja.

“Irrelevant to the case, but not to my shoes!” John yelled. There was an eerie silence from the entryway. Great. They were pissed at each other. I was going to end up out the front window at this rate. Then… Then John giggled. Yeah, no. There was no other word for the sound. He was giggling like a little kid. And Sherlock was laughing. The pair of them, standing in the downstairs, laughing away like a pair of loons. This. Seriously, lads. This is why it needed to be done.

“You look a bit damp,” Sherlock chuckled. And I could hear the squelching sound of waterlogged shoes followed by the smack of wet socks on tile. “Leave ‘em,” Sherlock said. “Mrs. Hudson is visiting her sister. You can fetch them in the morning.” More rustling. Soaked clothing being dropped or draped over wood. Oh, no. They were heading up the stairs.

Nicole was holding out her hand for Who, Fleur behind her, easing the ladder down. Who, unfortunately, was not as graceful on the way out. She made it halfway before hissing and grabbing her calf and trying to hop on one foot while partially out the window. “Leg cramp, leg cramp!” Then she toppled out onto Nicole. The metal made a loud creak and the window slammed shut, but it was barely enough to conceal their giggles.

Fuck. Fuck, shit, bugger, fuck.

“Bedroom window,” Sherlock murmured. Then there was the sound of footsteps. Oh, they were quieted by stealth, but audible by speed, and I knew they were running up the stairs. Oh God. Jam and Ami were out in the sitting room. And John and Sherlock… would be coming right up through the kitchen to… Fuck.

I slipped from the bedroom into the bathroom and tucked myself behind the wooden door that led to the hall, just as the bedroom door was thrown open. Please let the girls be down the ladder. Please, please.

There was a moment of stillness, then the window opened, filling the flat with the sound of rain again. The window slammed shut and the lock clicked back into place.

“Sherlock… what the hell?” John passed the bathroom. “What is… Oh… It’s… It’s everywhere…”

Sherlock made a low sound of affirmation. “That window is always locked, John.”

The adjoining glass door too the room was eased open and I held my breath. Who was I kidding; I pressed my eyes shut. I can’t see you, you can’t see me, right?

There was a small crash and a giggle from the front of the flat and the bathroom, my hiding spot, was abandoned for the sitting room. Oh, no. Jam… Ami…

“What are you doing?!” John snapped.

Fuck. I peeked into the hall, only able to see the edge of John’s shoulder in the door to the sitting room; Sherlock was somewhere further front and outside the line of vision. Risk it. Do it. I slipped out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. Ami… Ami was carefully setting the lamp back down on the table. She’d… No, yeah. I was quite certain that Ami had been literally hiding behind the lamp. No Jam though. Where’d she get off to?

“How did you even…” John sounded exasperated. His arms were crossed, his button-down was damp in places where the rain had soaked through his jacket and jumper, both of which must have been abandoned in the entryway with his shoes and sock. “No, you know what. I don’t want to know.”

I snapped myself back behind the wall just before Sherlock noticed me. At least, I think I did.

Then Ami giggled. Oh no. I risked it, I had to. I glimpsed around the wall again as Ami said, “This is all an illusion,” and threw a ridiculous amount of glitter up into the air and an entire packet onto the floor, creating a cloud of sparkling confetti. It was absurd. It was so ridiculous. It never should have worked. But something about the ludicrousness of the action, and the light of the streetlamps reflecting off the glitter either stunned or amused the men enough that Ami slipped past them in fog of twinkling color and sprinted down the stairs.

“What… Sherlock, what on Earth?”

“I have no idea.” He sounded… bemused?

“She just… broke into our flat to… to decorate?”

“Apparently.”

“This is going to be hell to clean up.”

“Yup.”

“Nice change from thieves and murderers though.”

“Of course.”

“Rather festive.”

“Quite.”

“What would you call this? Shoemaker’s elves gone horribly awry?”

Sherlock made a sound high in his throat. “I don’t think I’d hire them as professional decorators.”

John sighed and shifted. “You um… You have quite a bit of glitter…”

“Hm? Where?”

“Uh…” John snorted. “Everywhere.” Then they were both laughing again.

Now if they’d both just… I don’t know… Go upstairs to John’s room or something, I could make my escape.

“Tea?”

“Might change first,” Sherlock said morosely.

John rumbled an agreement. “Wet jeans are not terribly comfortable.”

“You don’t think they filled my wardrobe with glitter as well?”

John groaned. “Oh, I haven’t even looked in my room. At least I had my sig with me. Glitter is impossible to get off a firing pin.” They laughed again. Good, I thought, pressing myself into the small space behind the kitchen door that led to the stairs. Be in a good mood, be distracted, go upstairs!

“Take away?” Sherlock offered.

“Mmn, can’t face cleaning this on an empty stomach.”

Sherlock strode through the kitchen, listening to the ring through his mobile. And John was heading up the stairs to his room. I felt my shoulders relax, bit back the sigh of relief and listened, waiting for Sherlock to close his bedroom door. Then it hit me… Jam… If she wasn’t in the kitchen, or in the bathroom, or in the sitting room… Oh no. I could hear clink of John’s belt as he started stripping on the stairs. Shit.

~

"That's them, Ami, we have to go!" I hissed. Where the hell was she?! I heard the boys laughing downstairs and rolled my eyes. See, this. For fuck's sake. There was a loud bang from the bedroom. Window. I dove behind Sherlock's chair, curling up as best I could as our targets came sprinting upstairs, making for the bedroom. Oh God, please let the girls be down the road and at the rendezvous point already. 

I could hear the window closing and locking again. Good, they'd made it out without being caught. Except Ami, whom I still had yet to find… And me. I tiptoed to the door, ready to get the hell out. Then I heard it. Ami giggled, high-pitched and cheerful, too loud to cover up. 

Shit, shit, shit. In a moment of utter panic I darted up instead of down and found myself squeezed in behind John's bedroom door. There was more talking and suddenly a light pair of feet on the landing, then a bang as the heavy front door slammed shut. Behind Ami, presumably, and a conversation about glitter and cleaning. Yeah, good luck with the cleaning though lads... Now was my chance. 

I slowly opened the bedroom door and sneaked a look out. John was heading up towards me. Oh fuck, bugger, shit, arse, bollocks. I whirled around in the bedroom listening to him stripping off even more layers of clothing as he climbed the stairs. Frantically, I threw myself under the bed, tucking my feet in just in time as John opened the door and stepped in. 

The bed sagged above me as he sat down. There was a squelching of soggy fabric, then his jeans splatted down to the floor not far from my head. Oh no. I silently clapped a hand over my mouth and stifled my gasp. Not effectively enough. 

I closed my eyes as John froze. The bed squeaked as he lifted himself off the mattress and knelt down, peering underneath the bed. I sheepishly opened one eye and met stormy blue glaring at me. 

"Oh for… Sherlock! There's another one!" 

I cautiously sidled out of my hiding place and drew myself up to face them. John crossed his arms as Sherlock entered the room, looking ridiculously good in a t-shirt, pyjama bottoms and dressing gown. He raised an eyebrow at me just as John crossed his arms, then his gaze flickered to John. Specifically, John's arse in those gloriously tight red pants. It was only for a second, but when Sherlock looked back at me, he knew I'd seen it. Biting my lip to keep from smirking, I turned back to John. He did look bloody gorgeous in those pants, biceps bulging where his arms where folded across his chest, hair damp and sticking up everywhere.

"As this is currently the only room you haven't... decorated yet," Sherlock began, "We’ll thank you not to toss any more glitter as you make your escape."

"And maybe you can tell us just what the bloody hell you and your friend were thinking, doing, breaking in and, um, decorating? Why the fuck are you in here?"

I snorted, beginning to feel a little belligerent myself. Giving in to temptation, I summoned my fiercest drawl. "Well, we wouldna be here if the pair of ye werna sae bloody useless!" I flicked my hand between them and crossed my own arms, refusing to be cowed.  

John's mouth dropped open and Sherlock twitched slightly. A bossy voice and a brash Scottish accent do occasionally come in handy.  "Now, if you'll excuse me," I pronounced, swaggering past them both. "Oh, and, just in case ye didna tak the hint, here!" 

I thrust the last JUST FUCK ALREADY post-it into Sherlock's chest and darted down the stairs. My bravado lasted until I was the other side of the door. E was waiting for me on the stoop, and joined me, standing wide-eyed on the street. Then the giggles kicked in again, and didn't stop even when we joined our friends at the pub.

~

John was only just in his room, only a moment before he was shouting. I drew back sharply behind the door again as Sherlock dashed out of his room, dressing gown flapping behind him like a cape. Oh no. They found Jam. What the bloody hell was she doing up in John’s room? Oh Lord, there was more shouting. There was John’s sharp bark. And… I bit down on my lip to keep from laughing as Jam laid into them with the broadest accent I’d ever heard out of her mouth. More than the lilt and tone, they were letting her rail at them.

Useless? My brows shot up. Damn, Jam. I sighed and shook my head, heading for the stairs. From the sound of it, Jam was making her exit with style and she’d be just behind me. I skirted the squeaky steps and I waited on the stoop, beside the door, glad the rain had let up, leaving the street glistening like the floors of the flat I’d just left behind.

Jam came barreling out the door, stumbling into the street before glancing around. I grinned at her. She had this look of absolute wonder on her face. Knowing the way I felt, I probably looked the same. I honestly couldn’t tell you who started first, but in less than two shakes we were both giggling like loons. “C’mon, ye mad tattie,” I laughed. “Let’s get outta here before they call the cops.”

“Yeah, or before they look out the window and you’re made.”

I laughed harder. It wasn’t expressly funny, but I felt like I’d just gotten away with murder. We were laughing the whole way to the pub. And at the pub, I actually had to stop to catch my breath, because there was hardly a thing funnier than the crew crammed together in a snook, in matching black attire, sipping what I could only assume were various cocktails, and looking as pleased as plums.

I ordered myself a double of yellow spot and Glenscotia for Jam, then joined the ladies in the snook. We saluted each other, cheers all around, and then proceeded to laugh riotously at our own shenanigans. Like the massive bundle of green carnations Fleur had managed to fit in her backpack. Like the glitter bomb escape Ami pulled, trying to disappear like a magician. Like Who falling out the window and Nicole farting in the middle of sitting room. Then Jam repeated what she’d shouted at the pair, and I suspected that the entire pub thought we were off our rockers. Then Jam described what they were wearing as she’d shouted, and we were all done for.

“Pics or it didn’t happen!” Fleur declared.

I looked at Jam; she was grinning madly and tapping the top pocket of her shirt. “You didn’t.”

“Go Pro,” she said bluntly.

“Oh. My. God.” Nicole lunged across the table, grabbing for it.

“Jam, you did not just film our criminal activity!”

“Is go pro-ing filming?” she asked innocently.

“If we go to jail, I’m blaming you.” I was serious.

~

I leaned against the counter of the kitchenette and groaned, sipping my coffee delicately. Last night was one too many. Or an hour too late. Or just… I was in my thirties, I couldn’t be doing that anymore.

“Late night?”

I really should have glared, but Sarah was being politely matter-of-fact, and I couldn’t be cross at her for it. “I let a few friends talk me into something silly,” I said wryly. Well, it wasn’t a lie.

She smiled. “Well the first few cancelled off your list, so you’ve no one until nine.”

“Ah, someone must love me.”

“Please,” She laughed. “Now, I know you’re suffering, but I have a favor to ask. John’s not due in for another half an hour, and apparently he left his keys here last night.”

“Oh?”

“For a bright guy, he’s a bit of an idiot.” She handed me the keys. “Can you return them? I’ve to get stuck in with my list.”

I nodded and looked at the key ring. The irony wasn’t lost on me. Twenty minutes later, I’d managed half of my coffee and a small biscuit. I was feeling marginally more alive, but was debating the wisdom of an anti-emetic before the first kid tried to vomit on me.

“Budge up, there, Irish. Some of us need tea.” I moved out of the way so John could fill the kettle. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, then pulled a double. “Alright?”

“I’m fine,” I grumbled. “Apparently my liver’s on a go-slow.”

He grinned. “Good night then, E?”

I arched a brow at him. “Not that kind. By the by,” I held up his keys. “Sarah said you forgot these.”

“You won’t believe what I was doing when I found out I didn’t have those.” He tossed them up and caught them before slipping them into his pocket.

“As long as it didn’t have you locked out in that rain we were having.” When he pulled a face, I laughed. “You numpty. If you pull a sick day for it, I’ll be bloody unforgiving.”

He laughed as he stirred a bit of milk into his tea. “Nah. Bit heartier than that.”

“We can only hope.”

“John?” Sarah’s voice carried down the corridor. “Did E give you your keys?”

He turned. “Ta, yep. Thanks for hanging on to them.” I nearly choked on my coffee, sputtering and coughing until he turned back around and clapped me between the shoulder blades a few times. “Alright?”

My eyes were watering and my voice came out a bit funny, but I couldn’t help it. “I’m curious now. What the feck were you up to last night?”

He gave me an odd look. “Uh… Case… Why?”

“You,” I snickered. “You have glitter in your hair. Like. John. Did you fuck a pixie?”

John flushed. “What?”

“Turn,” I swirled my finger and took a picture of the back of his head. Glitter everywhere. In his hair, down his neck, dusting his collar. I held up my phone to show him. “It’s… John, it’s everywhere. Do you know how hard it is to get that shit off?”

He turned a darker shade of crimson. “I do now.”

“Right. And… what were you actually doing last night?” I pretended to be exiting the photo gallery, but quickly sent the picture to Jam instead.

_Pics or it didn’t happen. –E_

Five minutes later, I choked on my coffee again and narrowly avoided John seeing why. He waited for me to catch my breath, “Are you an aspiration risk? Should I be worried?”

“No,” I wheezed. “No, I’m fine. I’m good. Just… Someone reminding me of last night.”

He gave me a quick, skeptical once over. “Alright. If you’re sure.”

“I’m grand. I’ll… I’ll just go… Maybe earn this paycheque, eh?”

He nodded. “You know it’s an office night out tonight?”

I groaned on my way to my room, “My liver will never forgive me!” His laugh followed until I closed the door. I flopped down into my desk chair and pulled up Jam’s text. No, her picture-text. A very cross looking John glared back, arms crossed over his bare chest, and scantily clad in only a pair of rather bright, red pants. _Red pants confirmed. –Jam_

John Watson was never, ever allowed to borrow my phone.

**Author's Note:**

> Based off this tumblr conversation: http://ewebie.tumblr.com/post/124495010138/jamlockk-ewebie-jamlockk-ewebie


End file.
